To Make You Feel My Love
by purseplayer
Summary: Blaine knew he was a Dom at the age of 16, but after everything they've been through together he has yet to tell Kurt. With Kurt's needs becoming increasingly apparent, however, he decides it's finally time to take action in hopes that they can live as their true selves. A cannon-compliant (spoilers for S4!) future fic featuring Dom!Blaine and sub!Kurt, a fill for the GKM.
1. Part One

**A/N: **Hey guys! For once, I can say that this story is all but written (everything but the epilogue.) The parts are short and I hope to post every day, but I can't promise I won't miss a day here and there.

One of my goals in writing this was to conceivably cast Blaine as the Dom and Kurt as the sub in a cannon-compliant relationship. I honestly feel that if forced into the construct, Kurt is the more natural Dom and Blaine the more natural sub - but I love to play with characters, and I also love a challenge! Pass or fail, I hope you enjoy this :-)

Thank you, as always, to my wonderful beta Purple Pen - I couldn't do anything without you!

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It all started when Blaine was 16.

Holed up in his room for the remainder of spring and most of the summer, there wasn't a lot for a teenage boy to do other than look at porn. His parents were out, and it was still difficult for him to get around on his own following _the incident_. Who could blame him?

At first, his interests remained as generic as they'd always been. Pretty, smooth-muscled boys fucking, or sucking cock, or sometimes even just touching themselves or rubbing up against another body. It was enough when Blaine was merely horny or bored, but then other times…

Other times, the anger and aggression would well up within him, an uncontrollable force with no outlet. Then the boys—the _men_—on the screen would fuck a little harder, scream a little louder. Sometimes Blaine would feel overwhelmingly sad—lonely and hating himself for all of his self-pity—and the boys on the screen would kiss softly and make love, and Blaine would close his eyes and pretend he wasn't so alone.

But worst of all were the times he felt _helpless_. The minutes (sometimes _hours_) following a nightmare were filled with too-familiar scenes. He could feel the phantom fists pounding and boots kicking against his skin, and Blaine wanted nothing more than to make it stop. Those times, all Blaine wanted was to feel a little more in control.

And of course, given such strong motivation and so many long, empty days with only his various electronics for company, Blaine eventually managed to find the embodiment of that control online. At first it scared him—not the scenes themselves so much but how much he liked them, how his fist would fly a little faster and he'd come a little quicker. It was even more frightening when he found himself pushing the computer aside in favor of building a fantasy in his own head, letting his mind call all the shots for a faceless man on his knees in front of _Blaine_. His reservations faded as he sank deeper into it, this new world he'd discovered that he eventually learned was called _BDSM_ (although Blaine wasn't quite as much into the S&M part, but still,) and it became all he looked for, everything he craved.

Now, his only fear was of someone finding out—or how he would handle an eventual relationship, because Blaine couldn't fathom how it would work with him being _this_.

Months later he thought to question how he had gotten here, became this. Was Blaine a Dom because that's who he was, or had the person he was, or would become, fundamentally changed somehow when those boys had beaten him bloody?

He decided—had to decide—that it didn't matter. Blaine had always been a little too fixated on control, and if what was done to him affected him in any way, it was to assure that he would never use that control to hurt another person, but rather to take care of them.

He only hoped that the right person was out there to see that in him, to accept it and love him completely. A person—a _man_—who would need Blaine's control just as badly.

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**A/N:** Please review folks, it means a lot to me!


	2. Part Two

Blaine startled awake at the sound of keys jangling loudly as they were tossed onto the counter. Rolling over where he was sprawled on the couch, Blaine saw Kurt in the doorway, ripping off his coat and looking simultaneously pissed and close to tears.

Kurt wasn't one to cry when he was angry, so the affect was startling indeed.

"Baby?" Blaine cleared his throat against the sleep-rasp of his own voice. "Is something wrong?"

Kurt spun to look at him, making a strange sound that was almost a hiss. "When is something _not _wrong, Blaine?" he snapped.

Blaine merely blinked at him, irritation beginning to rise but he forced it down. His fiancé had a terrible habit of taking his frustrations out where they weren't earned, but he was usually easily redirected if Blaine could keep his own cool. "Unless I'm a part or a cause of the problem, I'd appreciate it if you dropped the attitude," he advised carefully.

Sure enough, Kurt seemed to almost deflate in front of him, his body sagging as if his anger had physically drained. He looked weary now—a familiar sight of late, Blaine thought sadly to himself. "I'm sorry," Kurt said quietly, and Blaine felt his heart swelling with concern and affection.

"Come here," he said, gesturing Kurt forward with his head and shifting into a sitting position on the couch to make room for the other man. "Tell me about it."

Kurt sighed as he approached the couch, dropping onto it and sinking against Blaine's body in one fluid motion. "It's nothing you haven't heard, only more of the same." He groaned, shifting his face so it was pressed into the crook of Blaine's arm. "Why didn't you tell me it would be this hard to juggle the musical _and _a full course load _and _my internship at Vogue?"

"Because it's what you wanted," Blaine answered immediately. "And just what part of that would you have given up?"

"I could have turned down the role," Kurt suggested half-heartedly.

"You couldn't. First of all, you're you. Second of all, it's a 'first positive step forward in my Broadway career,' as I recall you saying on multiple occasions to everyone who tried to warn you it would be too much."

Kurt huffed.

"Besides," Blaine continued, smiling in spite of the situation, "the irony of you playing an apostle to Webber's Christ was just too good to pass up."

"Shut up," Kurt said, face reappearing as he pulled back to slap Blaine's arm playfully. "You know Jesus is as gay as I am!"

"Yeah, but you said that Kevin's a Catholic, so that's got to be a little less blasphemous."

"_Jesus Christ Superstar _is blasphemous by definition, Blaine. Just ask any traditional Bible-thumping Christian."

"I've already had the misfortune of doing so, thanks," Blaine said, wincing as he remembered the time he'd accidently mentioned the play to Kelly, one of his friendlier co-workers. He'd been so desperate to get away after the first twenty minutes of her ranting that he had pleaded _constipation_, of all things, making a beeline for the bathroom and hiding out there for a good half an hour just to be sure she'd be otherwise occupied by the time he got out.

"So I heard," Kurt said wryly, laughing a little. It was quite a relief to Blaine, given Kurt's previous demeanor.

"I'm sorry things are so difficult for you right now," Blaine said sincerely, hugging Kurt closer to his side. "Why don't you rest for a little while instead of making dinner? I can get us some takeout instead."

Kurt's eyes lit up momentarily before fading again. "Thai would be great right now," he suggested. "But I really need to work on my screenplay. It's due in two days and I haven't started it yet. It might keep me up half the night."

"You need to rest," Blaine protested. "You only have one class tomorrow and rehearsal isn't until six; you'll have time to work on it. Go lay down and I'll wake you up when dinner gets here. You can start on schoolwork after we finish eating."

For a minute Kurt looked like he was gearing up to argue, but Blaine caught his eyes and held his gaze until he saw Kurt's resolve begin to melt away. "Okay," Kurt said finally. "A nap sounds really nice, actually." He smiled a little, leaned over to kiss Blaine quickly before standing up and heading for the bedroom, yawning notably on the way.

Blaine watched him until the door swung shut. Kurt had matured physically quite a bit since Blaine first met him, baby-faced prettiness giving way to a more refined, masculine beauty. But there were times when Kurt was sleepy or sad or vulnerable that he was still so overwhelmingly adorable, and Blaine couldn't help but smile in awe of that fact that _he's mine_.


	3. Part Three

Blaine met Kurt a few months into his sophomore (take two) year at Dalton. He'd say that he was just settling in at the time, but that would be a lie. There had been no settling in at Dalton because there hadn't been a need for it. Starting school there had been like entering a magical realm—everything came to him so easily: friends, acceptance, and even a lead role in the Warblers, once the group of boys had heard him sing.

He might have been suspicious if he hadn't had all of that before. Blaine had always been popular at school, right up until the day he told his [ex] best friend he was gay. Blaine was polite, charming, handsome and talented, always eager to please, and navigating the social world had come simply and naturally for him since childhood, be it peers, parents or teachers. But to be out and popular—well, that was a completely different kind of miracle.

The kind of miracle that an expensive all-boys prep school with a strict no-bullying policy afforded, it seemed.

It was exactly what Blaine needed after the attack, and not what he needed at the same time. While he could be his real self there (his real public self, anyway), attending Dalton felt a bit like playing a role on TV. He was always painfully aware that while Dalton was real, it wasn't reality—at least not the reality of the larger world. But Blaine was okay with that, at least for the time being.

Even among Dalton's abundance of boys, Blaine failed to encounter anybody who sparked romantic interest in him. Sexual, yes—he was only human. But that was all on the surface, and Blaine, by his very nature, craved something deeper. He certainly hadn't come across anyone he had any desire to dominate.

And then he met Kurt.

When it happened it shook Blaine to his very core, because it was so much more and less and _different_ than what Blaine had expected. It wasn't quite love and it wasn't really attraction and it definitely wasn't a burning desire to see the other boy on his knees or tied to Blaine's bed, though that would all come with time.

It was belonging, and it was connection. Most of all, it was a fierce need to _protect_. From that very first day, all Blaine wanted was to somehow cover Kurt's body with his own and hide him from the rest of the world; he wanted to wipe away Kurt's tears and make him smile.

Over time, Blaine learned that in many ways Kurt was the exact opposite of submissive. He was headstrong and witty and so, so very brave, even in ways that Blaine himself wasn't. He also seemed to have a need for control in his life that rivaled Blaine's own—his self-presentation always flawless, his care for his father always doting but stern, and his defiance of social norms resolute, often in the face of what Blaine knew firsthand to be a very real danger.

But underneath all of that, Kurt was lonely and scared. Sometimes his blue-green eyes held such sadness and longing that Blaine wanted to weep for him, though he always settled for coaxing a laugh. Kurt _needed _Blaine—it was there in the words they exchanged, present in each fleeting touch, overt when they locked gazes and held them for seconds too long. It only made Blaine want him all the more, made him more desperate to be there for Kurt and keep him safe.

Blaine fell in love slowly over the many memorable moments they spent together, piece after piece falling into place. He admitted it to himself in a single moment, and it was the most overwhelming thing he had ever felt. Confessing his feelings to Kurt was easy by comparison. It was nearly compulsory, as if Blaine was driven by some foreign source to _tell him, tell him, tell him._ The moment he did—the first moment Kurt was his—was the most perfect of them all.

Kurt was perfectly imperfect in every possible way, and he was perfect for Blaine; Blaine was sure of it. He was fairly confident that Kurt felt the same way, although the other boy was often less demonstrative about his feelings. Blaine loved that about him, too—loved that Kurt was such a private person because it meant that so many parts of Kurt were only for Blaine.

But how to tell him?

It was a concern that lingered throughout much of their early relationship. Blaine was consumed with the fear that Kurt would somehow figure it out. Baby penguin or not, Kurt was perceptive. Blaine worried that his sexual discomfort might mean that he was even _more _aware of every move that Blaine made, could somehow decipher the impurity of Blaine's thoughts and analyze them.

Blaine was not ashamed, but he was apprehensive. Because this was _Kurt_.

They didn't have sex for a _long_ time. (Ok, for eight months—but Blaine was a teenage boy, so it was a _long_ time.) Kurt wasn't ready, and Blaine was scared. He wasn't scared of having sex, per se, but he was scared because it was sex and it was _Kurt_, and that _meant _something, and what if Blaine couldn't control himself? What if he got caught up in the moment and Kurt found out in the worst possible way?

Then they made love, and it was beautiful, and it was perfect (ok, yes, a little awkward), and it was completely vanilla, as far as Blaine could tell.

After that, Blaine relaxed and he forgot about telling Kurt, because things were so nice the way they were that maybe Blaine didn't need the rest after all. Maybe he was normal now, or could pretend to be, and it would just go away.

It helped that Kurt seemed to fall so naturally into letting Blaine take the reins, at least most of the time. It was Blaine who usually initiated things in and out of the bedroom, Blaine who would sing to Kurt and say and do sweet things to make him blush and lead when they danced. Kurt seemed to respond well to Blaine getting a little bossy when Kurt had had a hard day, to Blaine pressing him into the mattress with a bit more force, his words just on the respectful side of dirty and inching towards possessive. It was enough. Blaine tried to appreciate it and note it and not let it mean more than it did.

He was happy and in love and Kurt was his and… Kurt was going away.

To college. In New York City.

Ever since Blaine had figured out he was a dominate, he'd thought of relationships in terms of what he could do for his partner, how they would be his and he would take care of them. How they would need him, and he would always be there. He'd never considered before that it might go both ways. That he might need them too, and that they might, in their own way, take care of _him_.

Perhaps that's why he was so clueless at first as to why the thought of Kurt leaving made him so sick inside. It was natural, of course, that he would miss Kurt, that there would be some pain in the adjustment. But he couldn't explain the _dread_, not to himself, and certainly not to Kurt. It wasn't like they were breaking up, wasn't like they wouldn't _make _it.

It was puzzling, to say the least, when he finally figured it out. That he needed Kurt, despite what unspoken roles he'd assigned them in his head. He needed Kurt's love, Kurt's affection and concern, needed Kurt in his arms and in his bed. Kurt kept him grounded and gave his life purpose. Kurt was his, and really, Kurt was all he had.

He figured out the last part far too late—that all the sacrifices he'd so gladly made for his relationship had left him with little else: no friends, an absent family, and few ambitions that were solely his own. Blaine had no other place to belong; he only had Kurt.

And Kurt was already gone.


	4. Part Four

**A/N:** I was so happy to see such a quick response to this story! Love to all of those who read, and especially those who review 3 - thank you!

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Cheating on Kurt was the stupidest thing Blaine had ever done. He'd had a reason, at the time, had the whole thing logically laid out in his head.

If he didn't know better, Blaine would swear he'd been either extremely high or exceedingly drunk the day he'd made _that_ particular judgment call. It didn't matter then, anyway, because Kurt had already been gone. Not gone to New York, but gone from Blaine's life.

Looking back on the messy path to their reunion, Blaine was grateful. Not because he had cheated—he could _never _be grateful for that, would never fully forgive himself. Rather, he was grateful because of all the essential lessons he had learned that year—the importance of friends and family, the importance of paying attention to himself and his own needs (Blaine smiled as he heard Burt in his head: _you matter_), the importance of _Kurt_. Because while there were so many good things in Blaine's life, Kurt was _everything_. Kurt was the most, and that was okay, and that was worth enduring any hardship.

Mostly he was grateful because his mistake had somehow ended with them together again, more solid than ever despite being more honest and open about the problems in their relationship and, consequently, arguing more about those problems. And now—finally engaged and living together for about six months—Blaine thought it might be time to be truthful about something else.

Sex was different now. When they broke up and everything was hell Blaine thought he'd never have that again: the perfect feeling of Kurt's skin against his own, Kurt whimpering and begging and needing Blaine. Blaine made himself okay with that because he didn't deserve it, not anymore. But then Kurt was his friend again and then, miraculously, Kurt _wanted _him again, and Blaine had never wanted anything more in his life. Kurt had been so _sexy_, pulling Blaine into that room and onto that bed and taking him, and it was fantastic and it was Kurt and it wasn't Blaine's place to take anything from him, anyway.

When they'd gotten back together their sex life stayed that way for a long time. It was too fragile, Blaine afraid to ask too much of Kurt, only happy that Kurt was his again and of course—_of_ _course_—he was Kurt's. Blaine understood that now. If things felt a little off, like they'd put all the pieces of the same puzzle together the wrong way, it wasn't Blaine's place to decide how to fix it.

Then college started again and this time they were there together. Kurt was a sophomore and the stress was racking up; this was Kurt, so naturally he tried to take on too much. Blaine could tell that with everything going on, Kurt _needed _it. So he started pushing, just a little. Pinning Kurt's hands when he was fucking into him, or issuing a well-meaning order here and there. Kurt seemed to enjoy it and was always a bit more relaxed the next day.

Blaine was doing it for himself, yes, but he was also doing it for Kurt. He had always known—and time had proven—that he and Kurt were perfect for one another. It was time to listen to his instincts and call it what it was.

Kurt was falling apart before his eyes, and Blaine knew there was something he could do about it. He just had to trust that and man up.

He just had to figure out _how_.


	5. Part Five

"So," Kurt said casually over dinner one evening. For once he was fairly relaxed; one of his more difficult professors had caught the flu and canceled class for an entire _week_. "You haven't said yet what you want for your birthday."

Blaine couldn't help but grin down into his plate, hoping Kurt didn't see. "That's because I want something really simple this year, and it won't take much at all for you to find it."

Kurt scoffed. "Really, Blaine? You expect me to buy that from you? Something mustbe off, because usually you're dropping hints for months in advance about this bowtie or that sweater vest. You'd better spill, or I'm going to get you a scarf. A pretty, silk scarf. With flowers."

Blaine almost closed his eyes at the sudden vision appearing in his head—all the things he could do with a black silk scarf. How the fabric would contrast so sweetly with Kurt's pale skin, and perhaps one of vibrant flowers imprinted on it would match Kurt's eyes, or his blush…

He cleared his plate quickly, stealing glances at Kurt and pleased to note that his attention was still fixed on Blaine. Kurt looked irritable, clearly desperate to know what was on Blaine's mind but too stubbornly prideful to push. When Blaine got up to carry his plate to the sink, Kurt's eyes followed him, and it amused Blaine to no end because Kurt probably thought he was being subtle.

Stepping up behind him, Blaine slid his hands over Kurt's shoulders and leaned down to whisper in his ear. "All I really want for my birthday… is _you_."

"What a line, Blaine Anderson!" Kurt said indignantly, but Blaine could see the smile he was trying to hide.

"Completely serious," Blaine countered, making his way around the table with his palms held up in mock defeat. "Did you clear the day?"

"Of course," Kurt said dismissively. "It wasn't easy—the director threatened my part, but it's too late in the game for them to find a replacement. I'm all yours."

"Great," Blaine smiled at him, this time genuine and open. "We've got plans."

Kurt lifted an eyebrow. "Shouldn't I be the one secretly plotting your big day?"

"Yes, well," Blaine fought to keep a straight face, "maybe I just like it when you let me run the show."

"I'm still getting you a scarf," Kurt said obstinately.

Blaine met his eyes, still smiling. "Make it black."


	6. Part Six

**A/N:** A second part today because they're so short... please review!

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The morning of his birthday (he was _20_ now, when did that happen?) Blaine was nervous, but also fairly confident. His plan was set and he was fairly sure it would work. He trusted, at the very least, that Kurt loved him enough not to take off running.

If nothing else came of this, after tonight it would be out there. No more secrets.

They spent their morning at the zoo. Blaine picked it because zoos are something both he and Kurt have enjoyed in the past, but they hadn't had the opportunity to visit one since moving to New York. The February weather had him worried, but it was a warmer day for winter, and with the sun shining and both of them bundled in their coats, they soon forgot it was cold. Kurt was happy and carefree in a way that he hadn't been in quite some time, constantly reminding Blaine to _slow down, we have all day_, and Blaine could only smile because they _did._

They finished up at the zoo faster than Blaine had expected and bought lunch from a street vendor that looked questionable but turned out to have fantastic food. After eating, the rest of the afternoon was spent browsing the nearby neighborhoods. They returned to the apartment to change, then went to dinner at Blaine's favorite Italian restaurant. Everything was perfect and simple and fun, and Blaine almost forgot their evening plans until the last bite of tiramisu was melting in his mouth. Kurt's fork clattered loudly against his plate, now empty of cheesecake.

"What's next?" Kurt asked easily, and Blaine could feel his nerves returning to settle in his stomach as he forced a smile.

"Remember what I told you I wanted for my birthday?" he returned, hoping the words came out as confident and suggestive as he'd intended.

"Yes," Kurt said, sounding breathless and looking more than a little wanton. This was good.

Then Kurt smiled, too big and too cocky, and pulled a box from his coat pocket, pushing it across the table. "I got you this."

Blaine wondered how he'd missed it, as it was large enough that it couldn't possibly have been hidden completely from view. He had an inkling of what it might be.

Carefully unfolding the wrapping and pulling off the lid, he peered into the box to find… a black scarf. It was silk, and generously adorned with brightly-colored flowers. It wasn't exactly what Blaine had pictured, but it was close enough. He felt his stomach twist with something entirely different than the anxiety he'd felt mere moments before.

Kurt was watching him, still smiling, eyes glittering.

"It'll look gorgeous on you," Blaine said honestly, enjoying the way Kurt's eyes widened slightly at his words. "Let's get out of here."

And they went.


	7. Part Seven

**A/N:** I want to give a special thank you to those of you who review, you have no idea how much encouragement you offer! I do apologize for the brevity of the chapters :-(

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Blaine was grateful they'd taken the time to walk back to the apartment, because he desperately needed it to calm himself down. While the overwhelming _want _the scarf had incited would usually be desirable given what they were about to do, Blaine knew he needed to be careful and composed for this if it was to serve the purpose he intended.

The moment they stepped through the door Kurt's mouth was on his, and Blaine allowed himself to get lost in it for a minute, Kurt still tasting sweetly of dessert and yet wholly of himself at the same time. He pulled back, looked into Kurt's eyes.

"I have something… _special_ I want to do tonight. I need you to trust me."

"Blaine…" Kurt started, still dazed but clearly also a little taken aback. "I…"

"Do you trust me?" Blaine asked evenly, not looking away.

Kurt was silent for a time. "Yes, I… of course, Blaine."

"I need you to listen to me. I won't do anything new without asking you first, okay? And any time you need to, you can just tell me to stop…"

"Okay, now I'm nervous." Kurt was trying to temper the statement with humor, but Blaine could tell he spoke truthfully.

"Don't be," Blaine said, smoothing his hands up and down Kurt's arms. "I'll take care of everything."

"Okay," Kurt repeated, looking only somewhat less reluctant. But Blaine could see the trust in his eyes—the little spark of lust and curiosity—and it was all he needed.

Blaine helped Kurt out of his coat before removing his own, took Kurt's hand (and the box, his heart racing at just the thought of that _scarf_) and led him into the bedroom.

He abandoned Kurt to stand in the middle of the room, seating himself on the edge of the bed. Taking a deep breath, he raised his eyes to meet Kurt's. "Strip."

"Blaine, what…"

"You said you'd listen," Blaine reminded him. "It's nothing you haven't done before."

Kurt's mouth shut, his fingers moving to work open the buttons on his shirt. Blaine watched him intently, his breath hitching at nearly every new bit of skin revealed. He hadn't lied—they had done this before, both of them, it was such a simple thing. But somehow Kurt doing it for _Blaine_, because he had asked, because he had _commanded_—it made it that much hotter.

When Kurt was finally naked Blaine stood and went to him, unable to help himself. He circled the other man first, taking him in and loving how Kurt just stood there, didn't move, _let _Blaine look. Satisfied, he wound his arms around Kurt's torso from behind, stepping flush against his back. "You're so beautiful," he gushed, pressing his lips into the crux of Kurt's neck before turning Kurt's head to capture his mouth, kissing him long and deep and slow.

Kurt spun in Blaine's arms, feeding into the kiss until they both needed to breathe. "You're wearing far too many clothes," he teased, tugging Blaine's shirt out of his belt. "Let's change that."

"Not yet," Blaine said, wrapping a hand around Kurt's wrist to stop him, continuing when he saw Kurt's mouth begin to open in protest. "You'll like it."

"Okay," Kurt exhaled, and let Blaine back him up against the wall, taking both his wrists now and holding them while he pressed Kurt there and kissed him again, working his way down the naked man's throat.

"I want you to suck me…" Blaine said between kisses.

"Yes," Kurt murmured. "_God, _anything…"

"…on your knees."

Kurt pushed him away a little, looked at him with eyes _burning _with lust, and began to sink down…

It was gorgeous and perfect and _everything _Blaine could want, but… "Wait," he stopped him.

Blaine pulled away, went to grab one of the larger decorative pillows from the bed and tossed it on the floor a foot or so away from the wall. "Use this," he said kindly. "You might be down there awhile."

Kurt stared at him for a minute before moving to comply, reaching a hand out for Blaine when he didn't move forward. "Blaine?"

Blaine took a deep breath, because this was the hard part, this was the new part. He picked up the box he'd discarded on the bed and pulled out his new scarf. Kurt was watching him, Blaine noted, his eyes widening more each second. Turning back to him, Blaine stepped closer… "Kurt," he said, voice only a little shaky, "let me tie your hands?"


	8. Part Eight

For what seemed like forever, Kurt stared at him and didn't speak. There was an odd look in his eyes, something Blaine couldn't read, and with each passing second Blaine could feel his confidence eroding. "Kurt?" he said again, unable to bear the silence anymore.

Kurt nodded then, so slowly and slightly that he barely moved at all. But it was definitely a nod.

"Put your hands behind your back, please," Blaine said, quiet but steady.

Kurt did.

Blaine's hands trembled as he wound the material around Kurt's wrists as carefully and artfully as possible, but it wasn't from nerves. He couldn't believe he was here, doing this with Kurt. Kurt was a vision from years of fantasy, amplified immeasurably because this was _real life._

"You're perfect, Kurt," Blaine told him, finishing the knot and moving to face the kneeling man, taking Kurt's chin and lifting his head. "So beautiful, I can't…"

Kurt nuzzled into his palm, and Blaine had to close his eyes for a moment because everything was _so much._

"Is this still… is it?" he couldn't quite finish the question, but Kurt's eyes locked on his, glazed over with desire in a way Blaine had rarely seen before, and he had his answer.

Clumsily, he fumbled with his belt and fly, stepping out of his jeans and boxers completely after a moment's indecision. This was awkward enough without his pants slowly sliding toward his ankles, or worse, his zipper scratching Kurt's flawless mouth.

He was debating how to do this and it was crazy because it was something so simple; they'd done it a thousand times before. But this time was different somehow (not somehow, Blaine _knew _how,) and he didn't know whether to press his cock against Kurt's lips, or maybe order him to open his mouth, or…

It didn't matter then, because Kurt was leaning forward, pink tongue peeking out to _lick_.

And that worked rather well too.

Blaine groaned and his hips stuttered forward, cock inching slowly into Kurt's mouth and Kurt took it greedily, swallowing around him and sucking in more. Blaine's hands came up, winding into Kurt's hair in a way that was rarely allowed. He wondered how far he could push this, how much Kurt would take. Kurt could take a lot under normal circumstances, had even mastered deep-throating after several months of trial and error. But this was different, and Blaine had to be careful, had to find the right balance.

He tightened his fists in Kurt's hair, pulling just a little, and Kurt _moaned _around him, the vibration of his throat eliciting an extra jolt of pleasure. Blaine pushed in a bit further.

"You're so good at this, sweetheart. Look at you, taking it so well. You love this, don't you?"

He wasn't expecting an answer, really, but Kurt hummed unmistakably his assent.

"Fuck," Blaine said. So far he'd held still for the most part, but that was rapidly becoming more difficult. "You okay if I move, baby? If I fuck your pretty mouth?"

This time Kurt whined, high pitched and stifled, and Blaine was glad to hear it because he _had _to move now, couldn't keep still unless he stopped altogether.

He tried to keep his movements slow and even, gentle and easy, but Kurt did this so well—even without his hands—and it was like sinking into heaven every time, warm and wet and with the perfect amount of pressure. Blaine could tell Kurt was trying to suck harder, difficult as it was with the constant movement, and he felt a burst of affection rising up within him.

"So perfect," he said in awe, untangling one hand to trace over Kurt's cheek where it hollowed out. "So good for me."

Kurt's eyes had been closed, but they fluttered open then, right now a pretty blue and so big, so _innocent_, peering up at Blaine under the fan of his lashes.

"You okay baby?" Blaine asked.

Kurt blinked, hummed again, and Blaine couldn't hold back anymore—he had to speed up.

He watched Kurt carefully, terrified that at any moment this could all go horribly wrong, but it didn't. Kurt was still staring at him and Blaine was practically racing now and he was so, so close.

He told Kurt as much, the words buried in a litany of phrases that were pouring ceaselessly from his mouth, both hands back in Kurt's hair, fisted and holding him there.

Blaine came powerfully, endlessly, legs weak with the strength of his pleasure and certain that his grip on Kurt was all that was keeping him standing. Kurt swallowed around him like a pro, licking at him long after he was soft, until Blaine couldn't help but pull away. Sated, he sank to his knees, kissing Kurt's face and smoothing his hair and tasting himself in Kurt's mouth.

"So good, baby," he assured over and over again, hugging Kurt as the other man leaned into him, face pressing against his neck. "You were amazing, Kurt."

Blaine wasn't sure how long they stayed there, several seconds or minutes, maybe, as he came down from his high. Eventually the press of Kurt's erection drew him out of it, his fiancé grinding unbidden into his thigh, and Blaine laughed.

"I guess it's time I took care of that, huh?"

Kurt didn't speak—maybe couldn't speak, Blaine thought, but he whined loudly enough to make up for it.

"Come on, sweetheart," he said, pulling away to grasp Kurt's elbow and help him to stand. "Let's get you situated."

* * *

**A/N:** I hope you all enjoyed the part! I've really appreciated the reviews you've posted, please keep them coming :-)


	9. Part Nine

He guided Kurt to the bed, settling him on his stomach and giving him a moment to wriggle around until he was comfortable. Blaine climbed up to sit next to him, slid his fingers under the scarf and tugged a little.

"This still feel okay?" he asked, pausing a moment when Kurt didn't respond. "I need an answer baby."

"Yes," Kurt said finally, simple and quiet and sounding not quite like himself, but it was the response Blaine needed.

"Good. Are you comfortable?"

Another yes, and Blaine smoothed his hands up and down the backs of Kurt's thighs, up over the smooth curve of Kurt's ass and down again. "Can you put that pretty ass up for me, spread your legs?" he said, accompanying his words with a gentle smack to Kurt's hip.

Kurt didn't answer, but his hips rose immediately, knees shuffling as his weight shifted into place.

"Good boy," Blaine said, pleased with his quick compliance. Kurt whimpered.

Blaine took a moment to take in the sight of him, bared and spread, displayed and waiting there like an offering. Just as he'd imagined, the black silk was a lovely contrast to Kurt's skin, pale but flushed, drawing out the color of a few of the ornate flowers.

Slowly, Blaine drug a hand between Kurt's legs, up to grasp and stoke his cock a few times then back down, groaning at the smoothness and weight of Kurt's balls in his hand as Kurt wriggled and shuddered. It thrilled him, the tease of all this, knowing how needy Kurt was and making him wait, letting the anticipation build.

Finally, he ran a finger between Kurt's crack, the pucker of his hole soft and wrinkled and twitching at Blaine's touch. He paused there, maintaining only the barest of contact.

"Is this what you want baby?" He asked, loving Kurt's desperate keen when he pulled his hand away almost immediately.

Kurt was squirming now. "Please…" he breathed out, the sound barely there and taking Blaine by surprise.

"Shhh, no speaking. Not yet. Can you hold still for me, babe?"

This time Kurt didn't answer, but his movement halted, only the slightest tremble remaining as evidence of his effort.

"Thank you," Blaine smiled, bent over to kiss the small of Kurt's back before pulling away completely and forcing himself to wait.

It was as if time itself had stilled with Kurt's body, there were no more sounds aside from the faintest intakes, outtakes of breath. Seconds may have passed or minutes, Blaine wasn't sure, but he knew it didn't matter because _he _would be the one who decided when it would start again.

Eventually his impatience grew too great, and Blaine leaned forward again, a gentle grasp on Kurt's hip the only warning before he _licked_.

Kurt came alive in that moment, hips baring back to press himself further against Blaine's mouth, breathless, desperate whining once more leaving his mouth to be partially muffled by his pillow.

Blaine thought about it for a moment, thought about teasing him with little kitten licks, light and fleeting and all over the place and never quite right.

Then he went all out.

He licked deep and long and hard, tongue flat and sloppily. He stiffened the muscle as much as possible, fucking in and out of Kurt's tight, clenching hole, working it open little by little while Kurt all but screamed, his hands twisting and clawing helplessly within the confines of the scarf.

Panting, Blaine pulled away after what must have been several long minutes, blew cold against the wet of Kurt's ass when he could catch enough breath to do it.

"You doing alright, sweetheart?"

Kurt moaned and nodded, a dazed gesture with his face half-pressed into the damp material below.

Blaine smiled at the sight of him, leaning up to sweep sweaty strings of hair back from his face and press a gentle kiss to his cheek before falling back to his knees behind where Kurt's own had slid out a little, still trembling and looking close to a complete collapse.

In one smooth movement, Blaine sunk his middle finger deep.

It took no time at all to work Kurt up to two, but Blaine grabbed the lube at three just to be safe. Kurt was groaning softly, meeting his every thrust greedily, and it was exactly what Blaine had wanted, what he had pictured happening tonight. He knew if he moved just right—if he merely said the words—Kurt would be coming for him in an instant.

But.

He hadn't planned for the flare-up of his own arousal, hadn't thought to consider that he was only twenty, after all, but his body knew better and now it, too, selfishly wanted more attention.

"Do you want more, Kurt?" Blaine asked, purposely sweet and tentative.

Kurt whined, shifting his hips back even harder to meet the next thrust—sweet and perfect and Blaine's, Blaine's to have and take.

He scooted forward and around Kurt's body on the bed, resting his head next to Kurt's and inching close enough to kiss him long and deep. Pulling back, he waited for Kurt's eyes to flutter open—they were almost more green than blue in his haze of lust, speaking volumes of the simplest language of all when they locked on Blaine's own.

And when Blaine had him…

"Beg."


	10. Part Ten

The jumbled pleas that poured from Kurt's mouth were shocking—Blaine had heard a lot from him before while in the throes of desire, but nothing like this. Kurt had never been quite _this _far gone.

Moving back, he hastened the movement of his fingers, slipping in a fourth with only the slightest bit of resistance.

"Look at you take it," Blaine muttered more to himself, watching in awe as Kurt's opening expanded and contracted with each slide of his hand. Even after years together, the intimacy of Kurt's body spreading for _Blaine_ still captivated him every time. "But this isn't what you want, is it?"

"Please…" the word was forced and distinct.

"Tell me, Kurt. I want to hear you say it."

"Want your cock," Kurt mumbled. "Please, Blaine. Fuck me…"

"God, baby," Blaine moaned, pulling away completely and reaching to hastily untie Kurt's hands. "You okay?" he whispered into Kurt's ear when they were free, massaging his arms clumsily.

Kurt flexed, twisting out of Blaine's grip. "Yes."

"Could you hold on to the headboard for me? Yeah, sweetheart… just like that. So good for me."

He was on Kurt now, careful to support most of his own weight, tasting the sweat of Kurt's neck and trailing his mouth and fingers across the pale expanse of his back.

"Don't make me wait," Kurt pleaded. "I can't…"

"Shhh, I've got you…"

Hands caressing Kurt's hips and then gripping too tight, Blaine thrust in hard.

"Kurt," he groaned, head hung and pounding his fiancé's ass. This wasn't going to last long at all and Blaine really didn't care. They almost never started out so forcefully, but this was different, this was new. This time, Blaine wasn't holding back.

"Tell me," he said with some difficulty. "Tell me if it's too much."

Kurt was writhing and making the most animalistic of noises, his hips trying to work back in spite of Blaine's vice-like grip, his knuckles white where he clutched the headboard like an anchor. Blaine knew that it wasn't.

"Fuck, baby…" he was inching closer every second, even more rapidly than he had predicted. Kurt was tight and hot and perfect but Blaine wanted—_needed_—to feel the other man clenching around him when he came.

Reluctantly relinquishing his hold on one hip (he thrilled inside, because it was obvious there would be marks there—an imprint of Blaine himself, dark and beautiful against the white of Kurt's skin), Blaine reached around to pet at Kurt's stomach. He could feel Kurt's muscles quake, was tempted for a moment to stay there, wait for Kurt to come from the practiced angle of his cock alone.

But patience, at this point, was an impossibility.

Taking a moment to slick his hand in the sweat of Kurt's chest, he finally closed it around the other man's shaft, stroking steady and sure. "Come on, Kurt."

It only took a few moments, Kurt was so strung out—he sobbed as he came, Blaine releasing his hips to allow them to move, frantic and helpless under Blaine's command of his body.

One more hard push into Kurt's heat and Blaine was gone, following Kurt down as he collapsed beneath him, biting into the pale flesh of Kurt's shoulder in the daze of his orgasm. Kurt didn't seem to notice, panting and completely still now save for each desperate intake of breath. As soon as Blaine was aware enough he rolled off of him, shucking the shirt that he was somehow still wearing before twining their hands together between them as their breathing began to slow.

After a time Kurt turned towards Blaine, seeking him out with eyes that were still a little glazed and scooting over to burrow against his body. Blaine held him there, whispering words of praise and peppering his face with kisses as his hand smoothed soothingly through Kurt's hair, down over his back and lower.

"Baby, we should really get you cleaned up…" he told Kurt gently, reluctant to abandon him in this state even long enough for Blaine to grab a damp washcloth.

Kurt whined his protest, clutching feebly at Blaine's shoulders and arms.

"Shhh, it's okay. I'm coming right back, alright?" Pressing one last kiss to Kurt's forehead, Blaine pulled away to hurriedly gather the necessary supplies, returning to find Kurt curled into himself, hugging his knees against his chest.

"Hey, I'm back! It's okay." Kurt latched onto Blaine's left arm while he did his best to clean them, wincing at the damp spot on the bed and deciding to pull the sheet up to cover it for the time being. There was no way he was getting Kurt to move—not even long enough to change the sheets.

Finally, exhausted himself, Blaine turned off the lights and got them settled into bed, the space between their bodies nearly non-existent. "You were wonderful tonight, sweetheart," he said into Kurt's hair, kissing the tip of his nose. "Best birthday ever. I love you so much."

Kurt would have answered, Blaine knew, but he was already fast asleep.

* * *

**A/N:** Finally a chapter that doesn't end in a torturous cliffhanger! Please send gratitude in the form of reviews ;-)


	11. Part Eleven

Blaine woke the next morning and instinctively rolled over, expecting to make contact with his fiancé's warm body as he did most days. Instead, he landed flat on his back on Kurt's pillow, the sheets stark and cool against his skin.

Slightly worried, he stretched and forced himself out of bed, wandering first into the kitchen and then the living room.

Sure enough, Kurt was there—curled into himself and sitting with his back to Blaine at the window seat, staring out at the city.

"How are you feeling?" Blaine asked, approaching him carefully and gently squeezing Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt flinched away, the movement turning his face enough that Blaine could see that he'd been crying. "Kurt?" he said, concern and fear rushing through him.

"Not right now, Blaine," Kurt's voice was cold. "I need some time." He sniffled, wrapping his arms around himself and folding his body in even tighter.

"I don't think that's wise," Blaine replied, trying to sound kind but firm at once. "I think we need to talk about this."

"I said not now!" It was rare for Kurt to shout, and this time it came so suddenly and vehemently that Blaine found himself instinctively backing away.

He stopped. He was so very tempted to give Kurt what he'd asked for, to walk away and try for later. But something in him was screaming that letting this go would be a mistake. Steeling his resolve, Blaine took a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, but this time that's not an option," he said evenly. "We're going to talk about this, and we're going to talk about it now."

He squeezed in next to Kurt on the tiny seat, looking away from the other man and waiting patiently, listening as Kurt's breath hitched every few seconds.

"I don't even understand what happened," Kurt finally spoke. "I mean—I remember it all, but a lot of it is… it's like I was under some sort of _fog_, I…"

"There's a word for that, you know," Blaine offered softly.

Kurt closed his eyes. "Please don't say it."

Reaching over, Blaine took his hand. "What are you so afraid of, Kurt?"

As before, it took Kurt a few moments to speak. "I know what this is. I know what it is and it's _not _what I want to be."

"Kurt…"

"No, Blaine, it's… you don't get it! You get to be the strong one, and I'm the one who's pathetic and weak!"

"Kurt, no, that's not true! You've got it wrong—that's _all _wrong. Please, let me explain…"

Kurt shook his head, turned to face Blaine suddenly, eyes wide and insistent. "There's nothing you can say, Blaine. I've researched this, I know how it works."

"I don't know what you've read," Blaine said calmly, privately surprised to learn he'd read anything at all, "but submissives are _not _weak, and they're certainly not pathetic."

Kurt winced at the word, pulling his hand from Blaine's grip. "I'm not a 'submissive'. I won't be. You can't make me into that just because it's what _you _want."

Blaine opened his mouth then closed it again, uncertain where to take this next. It would be a gamble, but… "If this is all about me, and not about you, then why do you seem to know about it? Why would you feel the need to do research?"

Silence.

"There's nothing wrong with what you are, Kurt. There's nothing wrong with what _we _are. I'm not going to sit around and let you suffer when I know this is something you need, is something that _helps_." He stood, and the movement seemed to surprise Kurt, his head whirling around to stare at Blaine in confusion. "I'll give you the time you asked for now. Come find me when you're finished with denial."

With those parting words, Blaine made himself turn and walk away.


	12. Part Twelve

_**A/N:**_ So folks, this might be the longest part until the epilogue. There's a_ lot_ of insight about Kurt in this chapter, so I'd really love to know what you think!

* * *

It took a few hours, and frankly Blaine was surprised that it didn't take longer. He was eating a slice of store-bought frozen pizza (which Kurt hated) on the couch (which Kurt also hated—not the couch, but Blaine eating on it) and watching reruns of Full House (which he and Kurt both loved) when Kurt settled next to him, tugging down the blanket that was pinned behind Blaine's back and curling up in it with his head on Blaine's shoulder. He didn't speak, so Blaine finished his pizza and continued watching until the episode was over, laughing half-heartedly at all the appropriate times even though Kurt didn't.

He wiped his hands on one of those ridiculous individually packaged wet-wipes (watermelon scented!) that Kurt liked to buy, then hit the off button on the remote. While it was fun to stretch the rules a bit at times and see what he could get away with, Blaine knew Kurt's limits and he _did not _have a death wish. Snuggling contentedly against his fiancé's body, Blaine waited.

"Can I tell you a story?" Kurt finally broke the silence.

Blaine's brows quirked—that wasn't quite what he had expected to hear. "Of course," he said immediately, intrigued to learn where this would go.

"I guess it's not a story, really, but… it might explain some things." He paused, reaching out to take Blaine's hand and staring down at it while he played with Blaine's fingers. "My mom was a real classy lady, you know? You wouldn't think it, knowing my dad, but they were a great example of the whole 'opposites attract.' She was kind of like June Cleaver, or at least that's what I remember. She always liked to look her best, even if there was no reason for it. She loved to cook, and she knew both dad's and my favorites and would make each on a designated night every week. Our house was always clean with just the right amount of clutter, and it always smelled like a flower shop. She really liked it to be that way.

I think it caught both my parents by surprise when I started taking after her instead of dad, but that's neither here nor there in this case. It's just—she had this apron she always wore, these habits where we'd all sit down for dinner and I'd help her bring the food in and she would serve us—like, actually put the food on our plates—before sitting down to get her own. That's the way she liked to do it. I used to organize tea parties for the three of us—or just for me and dad, after she died—and I'd do everything the same way. I'd pour the tea and I'd serve the cakes.

The point is, I guess at that age that's what I always pictured I'd be when I grew up. Not a housewife, per se—mom had a part time job and she was certainly no pushover. But I had this vision of my adult self, always picture perfect and puttering around to make things just so. And my partner—I think I pictured another man, even then—he would be like my dad was. Dad was always so happy with everything she did, and he was very vocal about it. They were happy."

Blaine had gotten so lost in Kurt's words that he hadn't realized the other man was finally looking at him, but when Kurt stopped talking and their eyes met there were tears in Kurt's, and he was trying to blink them away.

"Sweetheart, that's…" Blaine began, squeezing Kurt's hand.

"I'm not finished," Kurt interrupted him.

Blaine just nodded. Kurt didn't immediately launch back in, but it seemed to Blaine that even the gentle _it's okay, go on_ he was tempted to offer would be a violation somehow.

"I was never popular as a child, or at least not among my peers. I don't need to tell you why. But when I was in third grade, there was this girl who was new at school and for some reason wanted to be my friend—Nicole, her name was Nicole.

"It was… I guess you could say we sort of fell into these patterns. We played those 'pretend' games a lot; you know the ones I mean. She would always pick the role she wanted first, and usually I was whichever role was smaller, or I got stuck being bossed around. I know that sounds awful, but I loved it. I loved acting, of course, but I liked making her happy, too, and following orders just came naturally to me. I never really questioned it, not at that age.

"Eventually it moved into other parts of our friendship. I can't really explain it, just… if we were together and something needed fetching, I was the one that fetched it. She'd ask me to do little favors all the time. I don't think either of us understood what was going on, or even did it consciously, but it was one of the best friendships I've ever had..."

Kurt trailed off, and Blaine could tell it was because he'd reached something difficult. "What happened?" he prompted softly when too much time seemed to pass.

"The summer after fourth grade she had an older cousin who came to visit. I think he was twelve, somewhere around there. Somehow he… picked up on the dynamics of our friendship. He started doing it too. He was really nice every time he'd ask me for something, so I never thought anything of it. Nicole seemed annoyed but didn't really say anything."

Kurt stopped to take a deep breath, gripping Blaine's hand a little tighter. "Then one day, we had agreed to meet at the park. It was a nice day so it was pretty crowded, and it was small-town Ohio so everyone had just dumped their stuff everywhere without a thought to security. When I got there, Nicole and Demion were waiting for me. We played around for a little bit and then the ice cream truck came, and we all wanted some, of course. Demion asked me to go get his wallet out of his backpack, pointing one out, so naturally I did as I was told."

Kurt squeezed his eyes shut.

"It wasn't even hidden, just shoved into a mesh pocket in the front, and I didn't think anything of it. I got it and he bought all of us ice cream. As soon as we'd eaten it he said he had to go, and we said we'd be fine on our own. It was only a few minutes after he left that I saw a man, two children in tow, approaching the backpack. He seemed really distraught, and at first I didn't want to believe it. Nicole looked horrified, too, and he… he came right up to us, asked if we'd seen a wallet anywhere. I just froze but Nicole shook her head, and I didn't know what to do, so as soon as he turned away I ran…"

"It wasn't your fault, Kurt. You didn't know."

"I was stupid and gullible and… I don't think I've ever felt so horribly about anything in my life."

"What happened after that?"

Kurt shook his head, again looking down at their hands. "I never spoke to her again. She tried, but I just ignored it. We were in different classes for fifth grade and she disappeared after that, probably moved away. I don't know. It wasn't really fair to her, but I just _couldn't_. The way I'd been… it had always made people so happy, before, but I knew I had to change. That was the last time I complied with anybody other than my parents or teachers. It made it even harder in middle school, as you can imagine, because I was so suspicious of everyone. Eventually the bullying picked up, and I was a whole mess of friendlessness until Glee. But I had decided that I would live for myself, do things for myself, and be happy by myself. I didn't want to need other people anymore."

"So you just… shut that part of yourself off?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. I guess I'm pretty good at that, as you've seen in the past. Shutting things away…"

"That didn't hurt you?"

"I thought it would hurt more not to. I didn't know it was possible to be so… helpful and accommodating, I guess. Not without people taking advantage of you. Not until I met you."

"Me?" Blaine was surprised and a little confused. "You know I would _never _do that to you, baby, I…"

"No, that's not what I meant," Kurt cut him off. "I mean, you… well, you're kind of like that too, Blaine. You're a people-pleaser. And I don't understand how you can still be like that, and it hasn't gotten to you, and the world hasn't killed it, and…"

"Stop," Blaine said sternly when Kurt began to rant. He took a deep breath, trying to think his way through this, because he hadn't thought of any of it before, but Kurt had a point. "I guess you're right that we have that in common," he conceded at last, "but it's not the same. It manifests itself differently, and it comes from different places."

Blaine sighed, enveloping Kurt's hand in both of his. "Kurt, "he looked into his fiancé's eyes, "your desire to please people, to make them happy, comes from a place of true caring. I've said it before—you are one of the most compassionate people I've ever met, and it's part of why I love you so much. You care because it comes naturally to you, and because you've had some wonderful examples of that in your life. I hate more than anything that somebody took advantage of that, that somebody took that from you.

"I'm different. I like to please people, yes, but it's because I need acceptance and I need to be good enough. It's because I was never good enough for my parents or my brother, and so I've always tried my hardest to find that in other places. But being good enough for you—taking care of you—_that'_s the most important and precious thing I've had in my life. It means the world to me every time you say you're proud."

Blaine's voice cracked on the last sentence, and he saw that Kurt was blinking back tears. "That's why I want us to do this—because it's something you need, and it's something I need, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's another way that we can be good together, and it makes me so happy that we fit this way. I don't want you to ever, _ever _be ashamed."

Kurt lifted their joined hands, brushing a kiss across Blaine's knuckles before nuzzling his cheek against Blaine's skin. "I want to, I just… it's hard for me to trust, being that. I feel so… so _vulnerable_… and I don't want anyone to see, to know…"

"I'm not anyone," Blaine said sincerely. "I'm just Blaine."

Kurt smiled, watery but beautiful, and Blaine knew that he'd managed to find the perfect thing to say.

"Okay," Kurt whispered after a moment.

"Okay?" Blaine was unable to mask the excitement in his voice, unable to believe it was this easy after the chaos of the morning.

"Yes," Kurt repeated. "We can talk about it. We can… try."

Blaine beamed at him. "I love trying things with you."

Kurt leaned forward, kissed him softly then pressed their foreheads together. "I just love you."


	13. Part Thirteen

They decided to wait a few days to discuss things, as both men felt the day had been heavy enough without trying to negotiate this new aspect of their relationship. Schedules were tight during the week, but they made tentative plans for Wednesday evening, when (for once) Kurt wasn't expected to be at rehearsal, and Blaine wasn't scheduled to work his part-time job.

It still felt like a miracle when they sat down together in the living room, bellies full and steaming mugs of coffee in hand. Blaine dug around in his messenger bag for a notebook and pencil, wanting to make sure to write down anything important that was decided. While he possessed a reasonable amount of confidence in both his memory and ability to act wisely as a Dom, this felt too big to take chances on.

"You're taking notes?" Kurt asked, a little indignant.

"I think it's in our best interest."

"It just feels a little… formal, I guess."

"It doesn't have to be. Whatever you want. I'd just feel better writing things down for now, if that's okay?" Seeing Kurt nod, Blaine cleared his throat. "Would you like this… arrangement… to be more informal to begin with?"

"I…" Kurt was clearly fumbling for the right words. "It's still not easy. Maybe for a while, until we get used to it, we could just leave this as-needed?"

"Of course," Blaine said quickly. "If that's what you're comfortable with. I wasn't expecting anything more than that."

"Good." Kurt looked like he was trying to smile but didn't quite manage it. He seemed nervous, flighty, and Blaine wished for a moment there was something he could do about it before it occurred to him that maybe there was. "Come here?" he suggested, shifting his notebook around so that one side of his body was free for Kurt to snuggle against.

After Kurt had done so, he sighed. "I wish this wasn't so hard. Or so uncomfortable. I don't like feeling awkward with you."

"I don't like it either," Blaine agreed, pressing a kiss to the top of Kurt's head. "I'd like to tell you it doesn't have to be—and of course it doesn't—but I know that might not work out so easily. What I _can_ promise is that we'll muddle through it together."

Kurt did smile at that, tilting his head up to accept a kiss on the lips. "So," he said after a moment. "How do we… how do we know when…"

"I can usually sense when you need it. But if I don't, you can always just tell me. I'm always here for you, Kurt."

"I don't know if I'd be comfortable just saying it…"

Blaine looked down, found Kurt's hand where it was pressed against his chest and began absentmindedly playing with his fingers. "We could use a piece of jewelry, if you'd like? Maybe a bracelet?"

He held his breath in anticipation of Kurt's response, because even though it wasn't at all his intention his mind kept whispering _collar_, and he hoped that Kurt wasn't thinking that as well. It would be far too much, too soon.

"I guess that could work," Kurt said finally, and Blaine felt the air leave him in a rush of relief.

"We can look for something you like online, if you want," he told Kurt. "Or go shopping?"

Kurt beamed. "Shopping would be great, if we can find the time! Just don't expect me to come out of it with only a bracelet."

Blaine chuckled. "I would never!"

It was nice to find a moment of light-heartedness, but Blaine knew it wouldn't last under the current circumstances. "So, umm, we should probably move on…"

"What else is there?" At least Kurt didn't sound so apprehensive anymore, and Blaine allowed himself to hope for a moment that this conversation might continue a bit more smoothly.

"Well," he started, "the main things are… boundaries. Safewords. Rules, and we need to decide if this is staying in the bedroom or… not," Blaine finished lamely.

He felt Kurt tense in his arms and worried for a moment that he might have pushed too far, but then Kurt relaxed again. "Maybe we should start with the last one?"

"Umm, okay…" Blaine was a little surprised he'd chosen that, a little concerned because it was the area he felt most nervous about, most out of depth. "How do you feel about that?"

Kurt turned his head to look at him, then looked away again and blushed. "We never really said if this was… sexual for me or not, but I guess you've seen through experience that it is. I… was never especially comfortable with that part of me, and you know how I feel about porn…"

Blaine smiled to himself, because even today, as far as they'd come together, porn made Kurt a little squeamish.

"…but I can't say that my, umm, my _fantasy _life has been completely vanilla, even at the very start. I…"

"Kurt," Blaine stopped him. "As cute as it is to see you bumbling, right now what I'd like to know is if you'd like anything _outside _of the sexual."

"Oh." Kurt flushed impossibly deeper, but he carried on. "I was getting to that. I, umm… yes? It's just… it calms me down a lot sometimes, when you give me orders. When I'm stressed out and you know I'll just keep going and it will get worse if someone doesn't make me stop…"

"Shhh, I know, it's okay," Blaine assured him, taking a moment to squeeze Kurt a little closer, his hand rubbing gentle circles into Kurt's hip. "So, orders are good… when you're wearing the bracelet? Or when I think it's necessary."

"Yes," Kurt verified, voice soft. "But not… not all the time."

"That's fine, Kurt." He paused to write it down. "Anything else?"

"You said something about rules…" Kurt said tentatively.

"Well, some couples like to establish a set routine, or rules for the sub to follow. I don't think we're ready for that, or that you need it?" He looked at Kurt, waiting for the other man to shake his head in confirmation.

That decided, Blaine mentally advanced through his list, faltering a little when it occurred to him what was next. "Then there's… well, there's punishment."

"What?"

"Punishment," Blaine repeated, this time too loud.

"Oh." Kurt spoke in a voice that implied both that he had never considered punishment before and that he was slightly fearful of it. "I… I don't think that's something I need. Or want. Not right now."

"That's good," Blaine said in a rush, relieved. "That's something that… well, if you needed it, I'd try but… I'm not sure I could handle that either, not right now."

"Good," Kurt echoed.

"So, ummm…" Blaine glanced at his paper, though he'd written very little. "So far, we've agreed—scenes and orders, when you need them or ask, and we'll start with that."

"You can ask too, you know," Kurt said a little shyly.

"That's—" Blaine wasn't expecting it, didn't know if that was something he'd ever need or want to do, but it was nice having the option. "—thank you," he finally finished. He looked back down at Kurt to find him smiling.

"Next," Kurt prompted sweetly.

"Right... what is next? How about… a safeword?"

Kurt grimaced. "Do we really need one? Can't I just tell you to stop, like last night?"

"I'd really feel better if we had one," Blaine pressed. "I want you to feel safe."

"Okay, ummm… it can be anything?"

"Something that isn't likely to be said normally during sex, but yes. Anything you like."

They were silent for a moment, Kurt looking thoughtful. "How about blackbird? I want it to be something meaningful for us, if I'm going to have to say it."

"Hopefully you won't have to say it," Blaine said, even though he knew the chances of it happening over the long stretch of their relationship were good. He scooted down in his seat until his face was right next to Kurt's, nuzzling into his fiancé's neck and kissing him there. "But you're right, it is meaningful. I like it. Yes."

Kurt giggled. "Okay then, that's settled… what's left?"

Blaine again considered his notebook, happy to see that while the page with still half-bare, they'd covered a decent amount of ground. Then he frowned. There was only one major thing left…

"Just boundaries. Or, you know… sexual limits."


	14. Part Fourteen

**A/N:** Hello readers! I'm happy to say that this is the final part of this story aside from the epilogue. I hope you've enjoyed this little mini-journey I've taken our boys on :-) As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Also, for those of you who might be wanting more, feel free to check out my tumblr (link in my profile) and leave some prompts for this verse in my ask box. I can't promise I'll write every one or how quickly I'll get around to it, but I'd love to hear your ideas for these guys - past, present, future, kinky or not, whatever!

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Kurt sucked in his breath sharply beside Blaine, and it was the only sound between them for several long moments. Finally, Blaine cleared his throat.

"Would you like to start with the things we like, or things we don't like?"

"Things we don't like?" Kurt suggested. "I mean, I guess those would be easier to come up with… although there are things out there that are so much out of the question that I feel ridiculous even _mentioning _them…"

"Yeah," Blaine said, sensing Kurt's hesitancy. "Maybe things we do like after all, then? Why don't we start with things we've already tried?"

"Sure," Kurt said. But then he fell silent.

"I'm guessing, I mean… you seemed to like last night? Me tying you up?" Blaine was beginning to see that if this conversation was going to happen, he was going to have to push a little.

Kurt blushed. "Yeah, I…"

"What? Kurt, you can tell me anything."

"It's something I've thought about before..." he confessed eventually, not meeting Blaine's eyes.

"Oh." Even though Kurt had already admitted to having some… _kinkier_ fantasies, for lack of a better word, Blaine was still a little surprised by this admission. (And secretly so, so thrilled—he could literally feel a chill run through him the moment he processed Kurt's words). This was, after all, the boy who had been afraid to look at porn. Who _still _didn't particularly care to look at porn. "So that's something you've… been interested in?" he tried to choose his words carefully. "Even before me?"

Kurt looked down at his hands, distancing himself even further, but he nodded. "I… freaked out about it, for a long time. I wasn't that comfortable with myself sexually to begin with, and then when my thoughts would start to drift towards… _that_… I was so ashamed. I think I knew that it was related somehow, to the other stuff, and I didn't want it. I tried not to think about it. I tried not to masturbate at all, really, for the longest time, and then I would always give in and I would have to fight to keep my thoughts straight—" he broke off with a laugh, Blaine's own face lighting with a smile at the slip-up. "Well, maybe_ straight_ is not the best word for it, just… I tried not to think about those things, but my mind would go there anyway. And then when I did try to look at porn, and I stumbled across it, it was all wrong and it scared me even more…"

"Kurt, you know it doesn't have to be like that," Blaine assured him, taking Kurt's hand in both of his and squeezing it lightly, at last coaxing the other man to meet his eyes. "This doesn't have to be anything you, or we, don't want. This is a good thing, and we'll build it together into something that makes up both happy."

Kurt smiled at him, his eyes a little misty. "Why are you so sweet to me? I'm such a bitch sometimes; I don't deserve it."

"Hey now," Blaine stopped him. "You're hardly ever a bitch to me. And I think you deserve the world, because I love you."

"So you're admitting that you're biased?" Kurt taunted.

"Doesn't matter," Blaine answered amiably. "I'm the Dom, so_ I_ get to decide what you deserve."

They both froze, the meaning of Blaine's casual quip fully registering. Had he gone too far? "Kurt, I…"

"You're _my _Dom," Kurt said, tilting forward so their foreheads were pressed together, eyes locked and breath mingling.

Blaine blinked against the sudden, unexpected well of his own tears. "All yours," he promised.

They fell quiet, their eyes communicating everything that was too much to put into words.

"Well," Kurt said when the moment had passed, voice heavy with forced confidence, hand gripping Blaine's too tightly. "I do like it when _my _Dom ties me up. And I liked all the pet names you called me last night—but not in public, Blaine Anderson, or I'm putting you over _my _lap. I like being under you… just, you know, your weight on me," he shrugged, looking away now as his bravery began to falter. "I… I like being on my knees," he said more softly.

"That's good," Blaine squeezed his hand. "That's all good, Kurt, I like those things too."

"When you… restrain me," Kurt continued. "I like the scarves, I like... how the material feels. I don't think I'd like anything harsher. No… rope, or metal, or anything like that…"

"Okay," Blaine said, pulling his hands away to resume taking notes. When he was finished he looked up, finding Kurt's eyes once more. "That feels right for us, anyways. I've always thought you were more suited to… finer things. Pretty things."

"Yes," Kurt sounded breathless, his cheeks flushing for the umpteenth time. "I think we could try… more things like that."

Blaine felt his face heating up too, and he hoped he wasn't reading too much into things as he wrote 'lingerie' in the good column, but Kurt could see what he was doing and made no further comment.

"Is there anything else?" Blaine prompted after a few moments of silence.

"I don't really know about much else," Kurt confessed. "I haven't exactly been open to researching the more physical aspect of all of this."

Blaine nodded. It made sense. "I think we should definitely stick to the softer stuff for now. How do you feel about blindfolds? Or gags?"

Kurt swallowed audibly. "I, umm… I think blindfolds might be nice. Just, not leading me around a whole lot or anything crazy…"

"Of course not," Blaine interrupted.

"As for gags… I could be okay with it, but… nothing that affects my breathing. There was this time at the pool when I was around eleven, and my dad left to go to the restroom, and these boys from my class… they came out of nowhere all at once, and I thought they were going to drown me. The lifeguard either didn't notice or didn't care."

"Kurt, that's awful!" He began writing 'breathplay' in the no column, using all capitals.

Kurt shrugged. "It just scares me, not being able to breathe."

"No wonder," Blaine muttered, pressing his pencil so hard into the paper as he tried to finish the word that the tip broke off. "Damn it!"

"Do you think that's enough?" Kurt asked. "At least to start off with?"

"We can work a lot of it out as we go," Blaine told him. Kurt's hand was suddenly back in his, and Blaine smoothed his thumb over his fiancé's skin, so grateful to be here with him, talking like this. "I just want you to be comfortable, so I can be comfortable."

"Now why does that sound familiar…" Kurt's grin was impish, and Blaine couldn't help but smile in return.

"I've got an idea," he announced, tugging Kurt up off the couch with their joined hands and pulling him along as he headed for the bedroom.

"What?" Kurt questioned, confused but giggling. "Blaine!"

He stopped when they got there, wrapping his arms around Kurt as they stood beside the bed. "Now that we have this stuff worked out, why don't we practice?"

Kurt's face dipped into a frown of contemplation, clearly caught-off guard, but Blaine could feel his own eyes glittering. "Okay," Kurt said finally, sounding reluctant but content. "What do you want?"

Blaine took his mouth, lingering there briefly and then trailing kisses along Kurt's jaw and up to his ear, nibbling at Kurt's earlobe before breathing hot into it:

"Let me make love to you."

Kurt's smile lit up his face, and Blaine basked in the moment—marveling at the strength of their new-found connection, delighting in their shared joy.

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**A/N: **Heads up** - **the next time we visit our boys will be a couple years in the future...


	15. Part Fifteen - Epilogue

**A/N: **At last, we come to the end! As you may note, a few things have changed for our boys as their relationship has developed...

I want to thank all of you who have read, reviewed, etc - you have truly made this story a joy for me, and I appreciate each and every one of you. Again, please check my profile for my tumblr address, I'd love to answer your prompts for this verse!

To the "Guest" who has been leaving me comments about how Klaine should not be in a Dom/sub relationship: first of all, I hope you're aware that relationships such as the one portrayed here can be just as healthy as any other type of relationship. Secondly, it clearly states in the story's summary what this will be about, and surely by this point that has been verified by the content itself. I welcome any and all constructive criticism or opinions, but for your own sake, anon - if you don't like it, it's probably best not to read it.

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**Epilogue**

Kurt couldn't believe it had been a year. A year since their wedding day. A year since they signed an official contract.

It was always so overwhelming, when Kurt took a moment to reflect back on their relationship and how far they had come. They'd been through so much together: as friends, as partners, as lovers, as Dom and sub, as husbands. Their relationship certainly hadn't always been easy—at times, it had even been devastating—but from the very first day they met, Blaine had always been a steady presence in Kurt's life, his love unwavering, Kurt suspected, long before Blaine himself had even seen it for what it was.

If someone would have told Kurt in his early teens that he would someday have a relationship like this, he would have laughed or maybe even cried. He would have argued that such a thing couldn't exist, that the world was too imperfect—that Kurt himself was too imperfect and didn't deserve such a thing. Now, he spent each day feeling like the most cherished person on Earth.

Blaine pushed him when he was too afraid to move. Blaine calmed him, grounded him, when the world or his own drive for perfection became too much. Blaine covered him, marked him, punished him, made Kurt feel protected and owned and safe.

Blaine saw Kurt, every part of him, and Blaine loved him unconditionally. Kurt knew that it would never stop feeling like a miracle.

They had shared an amazing day of celebrating—cuddling into the late morning, eating lunch out and then hitting a matinee, followed by a commemorative trip to the zoo where they overloaded on greasy street food and giant ice cream cones. Kurt was happy and giggly, on cloud nine the entire time, but deep down he was waiting. Waiting for the moment they would finally return home, when Blaine would fasten his new collar around his neck before they played.

Blaine had "surprised" him with it this morning (okay, so Kurt kind of suspected, but he wasn't about to let on. He wasn't an actor of off-Broadway fame for nothing!) What was truly a shock—the kind of shock that meant breathless, speechless awe—was how utterly perfect the collar was. Kurt didn't know what he had expected—black leather, maybe, or silk if Blaine was smart. This was something else entirely. This was special.

It was satin on the outside, lined on the inside with a soft grey suede. The color was light, muted but pretty—the exact shade of Kurt's eyes when they were at their bluest. Tiny diamond hearts studded around it, and a heart-shaped plate hung daintily from the middle that read simply "Precious One." On the inside, engraved in delicate cursive where it would sit directly over Kurt's pulse, was Blaine's name.

Kurt's heart had melted when he first saw it, even as it sped with the promise of all that was to come. He was so close to begging Blaine to put it on him now, now! But Blaine already had plans for the evening, had whispered them temptingly into Kurt's ear. And now the evening was finally here.

Their living room set had been a wedding gift from Blaine's parents. Kurt had initially been wary of it—fully prepared for a return if he hated the furniture or it clashed with the new house, and damn their feelings—but to his surprise he fell in love with the set almost immediately. It was comfortable and stylish, subdued enough to work into his own vision but fashionable enough to make a statement. Most importantly, it had been easy to modify to suit their more… _unique _needs.

Kurt's mind was racing as Blaine laid him out on the couch, removed his clothing and lavished him in kisses; he wondered where this might be going. Blaine's whispers this morning had been enticing but vague. Soon, though—soon he would feel Blaine's collar around his throat, and Blaine would take him under, and it wouldn't matter to Kurt what Blaine had planned. Kurt wouldn't need to think anymore, only obey.

"Blaine, my collar," Kurt breathed sharply as Blaine's mouth worked its way between his legs. "Please…"

Blaine lifted his head to look at him, eyes feral and sparkling, and nodded. Kurt watched, heart racing, as he lifted the collar from its box on the side table. The sight stirred something within him and he rose unprompted, sinking to his knees on the soft carpet, head tilted up as instinct screamed at him to bare his throat.

When Blaine saw him he smiled, dropping to the floor himself and greedily attacking Kurt's neck with lips, teeth, tongue. There would be marks, Kurt thought. Normally Blaine wasn't allowed to leave marks because they were a pain to cover and wouldn't due for Kurt's career, but for tonight he would happily make an exception.

Satisfied, Blaine pulled away after one last affectionate nuzzle. The anticipation was heavy between them, and Blaine's fingers fumbled as he finally brought the material up and fastened it snug around Kurt's skin, checking the fit before leaning back and staring.

"Wow, Kurt," Blaine said, and Kurt couldn't help but preen. "Does it feel okay?"

"It's perfect," Kurt assured him, struggling not to get lost in the dizzy rush of ownership the collar had ignited—not too soon.

"You're beautiful, baby," Kurt could see the darkening of Blaine's eyes, minute cues he'd learned to read well over the past few years. "I wish I could take a picture."

"Another time," Kurt said, feeling himself sinking. "I can't wait right now."

"You'll wait if I tell you to." Blaine's voice, quiet and steady and sure, commanding but forever laced with affection. Kurt's world was narrowing now, bare but for the voice and the body before him.

He felt arms lifting him, wound his own around Blaine's neck. Then the soft material of the chair was beneath him, up against his back. His legs were being bound, and he moved his arms in line with those of the chair automatically.

"No, sweetheart," the voice said. "Not this time." Kurt let them relax at his sides.

"Are you comfortable?"

"Yes."

"Good," hands on his face, stroking gently. He turned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed, but was firmly redirected, a grip on his chin facing him forward. "Open your eyes, Precious One. I want you to watch me."

Kurt's eyes blinked open and there was Blaine, only Blaine, his hands teasing his own body as he slowly stripped out of his clothing. The sight immediately captured all of Kurt's attention—it would have even without the order—though he was grateful that Blaine had encouraged him to become more alert. Kurt had put on this kind of show for Blaine a thousand times, but Blaine, for all his sexual confidence, had never once done the same. Until now.

No matter how many years they spent together, no matter how old they got, Kurt would never grow tired of his husband's body—he knew this like he knew his own name. Blaine had an organic sensuality about him that Kurt could never hope to copy. It was obvious in his every move, but Kurt cherished most of all that he was the only one that got to experience Blaine at full force—golden, naked skin, smooth-muscled and adorned with an enticing smattering of dark hair. His weight fluctuated often, but not a lot. Kurt loved Blaine with a gentle hint of abs, loved him with the softest round of tummy. Kurt loved Blaine.

And _god_, the way the man moved! Blaine was down to almost nothing now, and Kurt was painfully and helplessly aware of his own arousal in a way that he almost never was—by now used to ignoring his own body's needs until Blaine decided they were a priority.

Finally, Blaine was naked and coming towards him, climbing over Kurt's lap and settling on his knees. "Don't move," Blaine told him, reaching over to grab a bottle of lube that Kurt had neglected to notice from beside the table lamp.

Blaine slicked his fingers slowly, deliberately, and Kurt was completely mesmerized. He was unprepared for Blaine's lips against his, not quite sure how they got there, but kissed him back with every bit of pent-up passion he was feeling. Then as suddenly as they came they were gone, and Blaine was pivoting in Kurt's lap, turning completely around and leaning over and reaching back and…

Kurt looked on eagerly as Blaine spread his cheeks and began fingering his ass. His own hands tensed, relaxed. Kurt had never before had so much trouble following an order; right now he wanted so badly to touch he could scream.

"Maître!" he called out, voice broken. "Maître, _please_…"

But Blaine merely worked in a second finger, looked back over his shoulder and smirked. "So warm and tight in here baby. Gonna feel so good around your cock…" he broke off with a groan, Kurt watching powerlessly as he twisted his fingers.

Kurt continued begging, even knowing it was hopeless, his words often breaking off into whines and whimpers that might have embarrassed him were he not so far gone. Finally, three fingers in, Blaine pulled his hand away and grappled for Kurt's cock, slicking it before straightening himself and sinking down onto Kurt in one fluid motion.

They cried out as one, the sudden heat and pressure so overwhelming Kurt nearly came on the spot.

"Touch me," Blaine ground out, an order and a plea. Kurt's hands were on him in an instant, moving desperately over Blaine's sweat-slick thighs, stomach, and chest, thankful at least for this small mercy. Blaine's own hands were holding fast to the chair arms, his body propelling up and down at a pace Kurt could barely tolerate, but Kurt's hips thrust up into him as much as they could all the same.

Blaine was loud, so loud—grunts and groans and moans and whines, and Kurt loved every minute of it. It wasn't often Blaine wanted this, wanted Kurt inside, but when he did he was so powerfully animalistic that Kurt didn't know what he desired more—to consume Blaine, or to grovel at his feet.

Kurt lost himself in it readily, easily—sounds and sweat and rhythm all melding together into the singular experience of _being_. He didn't register on a conscious level when it began to be too much, his body already accustomed to begging. He needed to come, needed to come, needed to come… but one thing always overpowered that.

"No," Blaine told him, and Kurt somehow found the strength to carry on.

It jarred him when Blaine suddenly stopped, pulled away. Kurt clawed and whined his protest, but Blaine shushed him, turned around and kissed Kurt and shifted Kurt's body and then he was back again, tight and perfect. The angle was more awkward like this, but Kurt hardly noticed.

"Sorry babe," Blaine whispered against his skin, wouldn't stop kissing Kurt's face. "I had to see you. Don't stop touching me."

Kurt's hands settled around Blaine's hips, aiding his movement now that Blaine's own hands were otherwise occupied—one wound into Kurt's hair and the other stroking at his collar. Everything slowed and built again, and Kurt followed along gladly, his eyes open and fixed on Blaine's, Blaine's love in his eyes and his body and his hands and his movement, in Kurt's collar, squeezing tight at Kurt's heart.

Eventually Blaine's hand left his hair, grabbed Kurt's own and fisted it tight around Blaine's cock, stroking together, inching closer. Kurt wanted it—wanted to see his Maître's head thrown back, hear him cry louder still as he fell apart. Unbidden, his remaining hand left Blaine's hip, trailed up his body and tangled in his curls, pulling Blaine's head back so Kurt could lick at his throat. His hips moved faster, and some distant part of his mind worried for a moment if this was okay.

But Maître wasn't protesting, so Kurt knew that it was.

Blaine's hand guided his a little quicker, his body tensing, and Kurt wished he could freeze this moment, stay here with Blaine and be owned and loved and safe forever, never leave home again. Blaine was everything to him—husband and lover and Maître, soulmate and best friend. _Blaine_.

Blaine was coming, and it was beautiful like it was every time. His come streaked everywhere—on the chair and on Blaine and on Kurt, on his collar; Kurt loved it when he got this, got marked and owned and used like this.

Eventually it stopped and Blaine slumped down against him, his weight a welcome, familiar burden. Kurt wanted more than anything to relax and enjoy, let Blaine take care of him like he always did. But first he wanted to orgasm.

He wasn't quite willing to disturb Blaine with begging, so he whined, thrusting up fruitlessly a few times until Blaine lifted his head and looked at him. Kurt watched as Blaine's eyes zeroed in on his collar, right where he could feel a splatter of drying come, and he groaned as Blaine smiled possessively and reached up to run his fingers over the spot.

"That was so good, baby," Blaine told him, meeting his eyes once more. Kurt couldn't help but smile at the praise, happily accepting Blaine's kiss while his hips continued their feeble attempt to grind upward.

Eyes still fixed on Kurt's, Blaine got up, the teasing slide of him lifting off just as much a shock to Kurt as the sudden rush of air.

"Maître, please," Kurt whined, thrusting into nothing. It was unusual for Blaine to leave him like this, but Kurt had to trust. If he begged more, if he was good…

"Quiet, sweetheart," Blaine said with a playful smile, bending down to untie Kurt's legs. This was not a good sign.

Blaine took a moment to massage each calf, pressing a kiss to both of Kurt's knees before taking his hands and pulling him to his feet.

What Blaine did next was completely unexpected.

Gracefully, Blaine lowered himself to the floor, lying flat on his back. He spread his legs too wide to be anything but an invitation, then looked back up at Kurt.

"Come down here, baby. I want you to fuck me until you come."

Kurt needed no further bidding—he was on his knees then on Blaine then inside, fucking him the best he knew how.

It was strange to be on top of Blaine, but certainly not unwelcome. Blaine's arms wound around his back and held tight, one hand fisting in his hair, his voice in Kurt's ear.

"You're so good for me, sweetheart. So good. I want your come in me; I want to feel it dripping down my thighs. Fuck me so good. So perfect."

If Kurt had been thinking at the moment, it might have occurred to him how oversensitive Blaine probably was. But the best part was that he didn't have to. Maître asked to be fucked, so Kurt fucked him.

It didn't last long—Kurt had been on the edge for what seemed like hours now and Blaine's body felt so good, so right, wrapped completely around his. Blaine's mouth smothered his cry at the last moment and Kurt's pleasure seemed to go on forever, his entire body alight with surrender.

When he came to again Blaine had rolled them over, and Kurt could feel the imprint of the carpet against his back and Blaine's soft, warm lips as they showered kisses all over his face and neck. There was wetness, too—more wetness than usual, and Kurt couldn't figure out which one of them was crying, didn't really want to try to know anything but the comforting press of Blaine's body and the sated heaviness of his every limb.

Slowly the voice returned—Kurt could make out words like "perfect" and "beautiful" and "precious", all the things Blaine knew he loved to hear. He opened his eyes.

It was Blaine. Blaine was crying.

"Hey," Kurt said, smiling weakly and reaching up to cup his husband's face.

"Hi," Blaine answered back.

"Is something wrong?"

Blaine laughed and sniffled. "Of course not, Precious One. Everything's perfect. I'm just having a moment, that's all."

"We have a lot of moments. A lot of good moments," Kurt agreed.

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, that's what I was just thinking. How grateful I am to have you, to have everything we've built. You're kind of everything. I'd do anything for you, I hope you know that, Kurt. I just… I love you so much."

Kurt beamed. "I love you too, Blaine. It goes both ways. Can I get away with a ditto?"

"I suppose I can allow a ditto," Blaine conceded graciously, his smile lighting up his face even through his tears. "So long as you know how I feel."

"I know," Kurt said, fingering his collar, pressing Blaine's hand against his heart, then covering Blaine's heart with his own. "It's all right here."

With all the feelings that had passed between them, there was nothing Kurt had ever felt as strongly, nothing that had ever felt so sure: Blaine's love.

"Happy Anniversary, Blaine," he offered, hoping his simple words might convey so much more.

Blaine's nose nuzzled down into his, an Eskimo kiss. "Happy Anniversary, my Precious One."


	16. Prompt One

**To Make You Feel My Love - Prompt One: Blaine calming Kurt down after he starts panicking.**

**Also, the first time Blaine calls Kurt "Precious One."**

_**AN: **_This is the first and only prompt I've received for this verse, so I hope I did it justice! This takes place sometime between the bulk of the story and the epilogue. Please send me additional prompts if you're so inclined! Enjoy ;-)

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Blaine arrived home early to an empty house; that was his first hint that Kurt's day had been less than stellar. He hurried to plug in his phone—dead for at least three hours now due to his own carelessness—and sure enough, he had two voicemails and several missed messages.

_2:46 PM Blaine it's bad… Anita spent almost an hour screaming at me when she discovered the fabric was ruined, and Isabel gave me this look and disappeared into her office without a word…_

_4:08 PM She's out now but she won't even look at me… I've never seen her like this before_

_4:26 PM I wish you would answer your phone, I really need you right now… :-(_

_4:43 PM Cassi just sent word that there's a performance we have to attend at 5:30 this evening… 5:30 Blaine! And I'm supposed to work until 6 and this is New York and what does she think we're magicians!?_

_6:02 PM I didn't go, I couldn't bring myself to ask Isabel. Why aren't you checking your messages? I'm going to be here at least another hour…_

Blaine scowled down at the phone and then tossed it onto the bed, heedless of the power cord that was now straining with the distance. It was currently ten minutes to eight, so Kurt should be home soon. He hoped. He was contemplating what takeout to order them when he heard the door open and slam shut again.

"Kurt?" he called, too-loud but a little tentative. "Kurt, I'm sorry I…" he paused as he stepped into the living room, where Kurt stood just in front of the door. Blaine might have mistaken him for a statue if he hadn't been shaking so badly, if his face wasn't currently so crestfallen, defeated, _human_ in contrast to his usual model-like perfection. "Kurt, sweetheart what's wrong?" he asked, rushing over to his fiancé and tugging the bag from his arms to toss it onto the couch. "What did Isabel do?"

Kurt didn't answer right away, still frozen in place and staring with glazed-over eyes at nothing in particular. Blaine reached up to cup his face with one hand, gently turning his head in an attempt to establish contact.

Finally, and to Blaine's immense relief, Kurt spoke. "She didn't do anything," he said, the words hushed and a little scratchy. "She still hadn't said a word to me when I left."

"I'm sorry," Blaine said sincerely. The urge was strong to hug Kurt, but something about his demeanor made Blaine hold back. "You know she loves you, though; I'm sure she'll come around."

Kurt shook his head, still not quite there. "It's not about love. I've cost them nearly a thousand dollars in material."

"You'll make it up," Blaine told him stubbornly. Then, more hesitant, "do you need me right now? Would it help?"

It had been a long time since Blaine had seen him this bad, if ever, and certainly not since before they began their… arrangement. He wasn't sure how to respond to this Kurt, and he hated feeling helpless.

Kurt shook his head, and Blaine barely repressed a sigh, feeling completely at a loss.

"I was about to order takeout. Any suggestions?"

This seemed to spark something in Kurt, and for a moment his eyes cleared. "No, I'll make dinner."

"Are you sure? It's kind of late."

"I want to," Kurt said, finally moving towards the kitchen.

"Alright then," Blaine called after him. "Let me know if you want help!"

Kurt didn't answer, and Blaine couldn't help but feel unsettled as the other man disappeared through the doorway. He knew he couldn't push Kurt to accept his assistance where it wasn't wanted. Could he? Of course not; that wouldn't be right.

Shaking it off, Blaine headed back into the bedroom, determined to lose himself for a while in one of the hideously long essays he had to write for his world cultures class.

He made a good go of it for a time, but fifteen minutes in the noises from the kitchen were proving too distracting. Blaine was fighting the instinct to jump to his feet and rush to his fiancé's aid when he suddenly heard a loud crash and the unmistakable sound of Kurt swearing loudly. There was no fight about it anymore; Blaine was already halfway through the door.

By the time he reached the kitchen, Kurt had the faucet running and his arm stuck beneath it, sweater sleeves rolled up but threatening to fall. A small pot full of sauce was upturned on the stove, spilling over into a larger dish and onto the floor, its contents still bubbling and sizzling slowly.

Kurt looked over at Blaine the moment he appeared, his chest heaving and eyes manic. "Blaine," he cried out like he couldn't help it. "I ruined it, Blaine."

Not sparing a moment to think, Blaine snapped into action.

Switching the stove off quickly, he hurried over Kurt, grasping his clammy hand and turning his arm under the water until he could see the injury properly. A few inches of Kurt's forearm were bright red. It would probably blister, but it wasn't severe enough that Blaine couldn't treat it himself.

He rubbed Kurt's back soothingly and pressed a kiss to his cheek, hoping that his presence might calm the other man enough to slow his breathing. It didn't work. Kurt swayed on his feet, looking about ready to collapse.

"Woah, sweetheart," Blaine told him, supporting some of his weight. "I really need you to stand here and run your arm under the water for a little longer, okay? Do you think you can do that?"

To Blaine's dismay, Kurt shook his head slowly, as if in a daze.

"Alright," Blaine said, thinking fast, "here, then." He pulled a chair over for Kurt, carefully settling him into it without jarring his arm before grabbing a large baking pan to fill with water. Kneeling before his fiancé, he careful balanced the pan on Kurt's lap. "I need you to sit here for five more minutes and soak your arm. Try to relax for me, baby… you're hyperventilating and it's scary. I'm going to clean this up and I'll be right back with you, okay? I promise I won't leave the room."

To his relief, Kurt nodded and followed his instructions. Blaine hurried to clean up the sauce and the remains of whatever Kurt had been trying to pour it on, careful not to burn himself as well. When he was finished he sifted through their medical cupboard—grateful for the first time that Kurt's extensive collection of hygiene products forced them to store the bulk of their supplies in the kitchen—and gathered what he needed. Making his way back over to his fiancé, Blaine knelt again at his side.

Kurt was breathing a little more evenly, but his eyes were still unfocused and he startled at the touch of Blaine's hand on his arm, gently lifting it from the water and setting the pan aside. He hissed as Blaine patted his injury dry, Blaine shushing him and rubbing circles into his thigh until he'd finished. Finally, Blaine applied some burn cream he'd found and wrapped the area carefully in gauze, kissing over the makeshift bandage where he'd taped it shut.

"How are you, Kurt?" he asked, trying and failing to meet the other man's eyes.

Kurt didn't answer, but his arms wound around Blaine's neck, tugging him closer until his head was pressed awkwardly against Kurt's stomach. Blaine returned the embrace for a few moments, his concern refusing to ease, before pulling back.

"Kurt," he tried, but his fiancé still wasn't looking at him. He cleared his throat, prepared to use a little more force. "Kurt!"

This time the brunette's eyes snapped up to his, only a smidgen clearer, but Blaine knew he had his attention.

"Can you stand now?" he asked more softly but with just as much authority.

Kurt nodded, the movement slight.

"Good," Blaine said, his relief palpable. "That's good, baby. Listen to me, okay? I want you to go into the bedroom for me. Undress and lay face down on the bed. That's all you need to do or worry about right now, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?"

Kurt nodded again and Blaine offered him a smile in reward, gently taking his hand and tugging him to his feet. "Go," he repeated, kissing him chastely.

Once Kurt was out of sight, Blaine sighed, taking a minute to collect himself and formulate a plan. Despite his denial earlier, Blaine could tell that Kurt really needed his Dom right now, so that was who he would get.

He went to the phone first, quickly making a decision and dialing a Middle Eastern place a few blocks away that he knew had amazing hummus and baklava, two things Kurt loved. It was a Friday night, so the wait was 45 minutes, but Blaine wasn't bothered—that gave him plenty of time to focus on Kurt and hopefully bring him out of his funk.

Blaine stopped by the bathroom, collecting what he needed and only disrupting the order of a few of Kurt's products in the process. He was certain he'd be lectured for it later, but it was a small price to pay if it meant getting back to his submissive sooner.

When he finally entered the bedroom, he found Kurt lying just as instructed—his pale skin spread out beautifully atop their navy sheets. He smiled to himself, shivering with the stirrings of arousal, but easily tamped it down. Kurt made no acknowledgement of his presence as Blaine quickly grabbed Kurt's bracelet from their dresser drawer, and Blaine's heart leapt at what a beautiful, perfect sub Kurt was for him.

Until he approached the bed and noticed Kurt's tear-stained cheeks, and it plummeted just as swiftly.

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, climbing up onto the bed and stroking down Kurt's back. "Didn't I tell you not to think about it?"

"I'm sorry; I couldn't stop it," Kurt murmured—the first words he'd spoken since Blaine had found him in the kitchen.

"That's alright, baby," Blaine assured him, then considered for a moment and hastily added "… this time. I just hate seeing you hurting. Why weren't you honest with me before when I asked if you needed this?"

Kurt's eyes squeezed shut. "I thought I didn't deserve it."

Blaine's brow furrowed as he frowned. "You'll always, always deserve my love, Kurt," he responded a little sternly. "I'm not happy that you weren't honest with me, but we'll address that later."

Kurt nodded, eyes still closed.

"Will you put on the bracelet for me, baby?" Blaine asked more softly. "Let me take care of you?"

To Blaine's immense relief, Kurt nodded again, allowing Blaine to slip the bracelet onto his wrist with practiced ease and sighing when Blaine pressed a kiss over the band.

"Alright, sweetheart," Blaine began, reaching into the nightstand drawer and easily finding what he sought, holding it up for Kurt to see, "the first thing we're going to do is get you into this. Lift your head for me please."

Kurt did so easily, his eyes sparking at the blindfold in Blaine's hand and then quickly disappearing beneath it.

"Does that feel okay?"

The sub whined in assent, and Blaine absentmindedly stroked fingers down the back of his head. "Very good, Kurt. Now, I'm going to tie your ankles to the posts, but I can't have your arms tied for what I'm going to do, so I need you to keep them very still for me."

Kurt was quiet, lax as Blaine made quick work of securing his ankles to either bed post with the silk ties they'd purchased a few months back. Blaine rained kisses down on his calves and ankles as he worked, wanting to be sure that his sub was rewarded for his cooperation and reminded that he was loved.

"Are you still with me, baby?"

A slight shift of Kurt's head, delayed and barely there, and Blaine smiled, pleased with his answer.

"I know there's a lot on your mind right now, but I want you to clear it for me. Just relax. I'm going to touch you, and I want you focus on that and nothing else."

Kurt hummed contentedly and wiggled, clearly only halfway present, and Blaine smacked his ass lightly at the movement.

"None of that now, sweetheart. Lay still."

Satisfied when the other man obliged immediately, Blaine grabbed the bottle he'd brought in from the bathroom and carefully climbed onto the bed, straddling Kurt's thighs. The sweetly-scented oil poured out more quickly than he had anticipated, so he allowed some to drip from his fingers into a pretty pattern on Kurt's pale skin, his fiancé whimpering because it was just a bit too cold.

"Shhh," he soothed as he slicked his hands, then pressed them gently into his sub's shoulders. "Relax."

Aside from a few knots around his neck, Kurt's body was quite loose, carefully kept that way with weekly yoga. Blaine trailed his fingers along every inch of Kurt's back and shoulders, sometimes following with gentle kisses, lingering where Kurt's sighs of contentment were most numerous. He worked across Kurt's arms, skimmed down the sleek sides of his torso and over his hips to massage his thighs, then his calves and feet, finally returning to his ass. Though it wasn't his intent, he knew from experience that any touch here would likely arouse his submissive, and he wanted to be sure to cover all his ground in their limited time.

Blaine wasn't wrong. Kurt's soft sighs and hums quickly turned to moans as he kneaded his ass, and he was moving again, clearly trying to arch into Blaine's touch but unable to given his restraints. The Dom thought of reprimanding him, but it was too tempting to take a different approach.

Slowly, teasingly, he dragged a single finger gently down the line of Kurt's crack, trailing back up to trace barely-there circles around his hole.

Kurt keened.

Blaine felt his own arousal—trivial but present since they'd first begun—suddenly spike, but it was easily reigned in. He glanced at the clock. Twenty minutes left if the restaurant had been accurate. He just might be able to swing that.

Quickly grabbing the lube from the nightstand drawer, he slicked up two fingers and fucked into Kurt with no warning, causing the man beneath him to cry out sharply.

"Shh, Kurt. You're so hot for me like this." Blaine leaned forward to press a kiss to Kurt's shoulder as he began to expertly work him over, curving his fingers just so. His fiancé was rutting frantically—up into his hand and down against the sheets—and Blaine decided to take pity on him, shifting so that he was sitting at Kurt's side and reaching to awkwardly work at the knots around Kurt's ankles.

"Up on your knees, baby," he commanded softly when Kurt was finally free, enjoying the sight of his submissive scrambling. "That's it; I'll make it so much better."

Eleven minutes left according to the clock, and Blaine set a brutal pace, reaching underneath to clasp just so around his fiancé's shaft. Two minutes in and Kurt was practically sobbing. Blaine smiled, loving this part best of all.

"Let go, Kurt;" he commanded, bending quickly to sink his teeth into the beautiful pale flesh of the other man's ass as he climaxed, soothing over the bite with his tongue as his sub slowly came down.

When it was over Kurt collapsed, a quivering mess that settled perfectly into the curve of Blaine's body just seconds before the doorbell chimed, three minutes early.

Gently easing the blindfold off and setting it aside, he took a moment to study Kurt's face—his eyes were closed, but Blaine didn't think he was sleeping.

"Sweetheart?" he tried, and Kurt whined in response. "The food is here, baby; I need to go get it. I'll be back soon, okay?" Kurt squirmed and rolled over, pulling a stray pillow into his body and twining himself around it. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Blaine pulled a blanket over him and took a moment to right his own clothing before heading to the door.

The delivery woman was gone quickly, blatantly pleased with the sizeable tip Blaine left as well as his charming smile, and Blaine dumped the food on the counter before making a beeline back to Kurt.

"Hey baby," he greeted, and Kurt's eyes blinked open slowly. Blaine smiled at the sight. "Come here," he beckoned, sitting on the edge of the bed. Kurt scooted over until his head was resting on Blaine's lap, humming a little sigh as Blaine's fingers worked through his hair. "Our food is here, if you're hungry.

"Mmm starving," Kurt said, sounding as though he were waking from a heavy sleep.

"I can bring it in here, if you like," Blaine suggested, half-teasing. Kurt had strict rules about eating in bed—strict enough that Blaine had come close to being castrated the second week they'd moved in together after Kurt found some cookie crumbs he'd missed by his pillow.

But now, Kurt surprised Blaine by peering up at him almost coyly, a small smile gracing his face. "On a tray? That would be lovely."

Nudging Kurt to sit up, they kissed deeply as the brunette settled back against the headboard, Blaine grabbing a pillow to shield his head against the hard surface. "Dinner in bed it is. I'll be back soon."

Blaine made quick work of putting together a tray, finding most of the things they would need in the takeout bag. He considered including some flowers but decided against it—while Kurt would surely appreciate a decorative touch, now was not the time.

When he got back to their room Kurt was sitting just as he'd left him, smiling and leaning forward for a kiss as Blaine slid the tray onto his lap.

"Thank you, Blaine," he said softly, pressing their foreheads together before the Dom could move away.

Climbing onto the bed, Blaine happily cuddled against his side and began ripping into their package of pita bread, luckily still warm. "It's nothing," he dismissed. "Definitely worth it to see you smile again."

They ate in silence, feeding each other with their hands and playfully nipping at fingers. Blaine mentioned the baklava that he'd left on the counter after they finished, but they were both so full he was glad when Kurt decided they should save it for later.

"We should talk then," he said somewhat reluctantly, moving the tray onto the nightstand. "You need to tell me what happened today."

Kurt eyes darkened, looking distant for a moment, but he nodded and began with a sigh.

"I told you about work, and then with Cassi. There's not much more to say about that. I think what… _frustrated_ me the most is that it's not settled. I hate making mistakes, but I'm mature enough to know that it happens, and I can take responsibility and face the consequences… but I was all ready and then nothing. Nothing, Blaine! And it's Friday and I'll have to wait till Monday to see her again… three days to have it hanging over my head! And I just want so badly to be able to handle that on my own, because it's my fault, but… and then with Cassi, I know I'll get hell for missing that demonstration, but that will have to wait till Tuesday…"

His words finally trailed off, and Blaine allowed Kurt a moment to collect himself. When his fiancé finally grew impatient enough to make eye contact again, Blaine asked him the question he was most concerned with. "Why didn't you let me help you? How could you think you didn't deserve my help?"

"I just… I…" he stopped, clearly floundering, and glared at Blaine before looking down at his hands. "It was my fault?" Kurt repeated meekly.

"Of course it was your fault," Blaine agreed without missing a beat, even as Kurt's eyes shot back up to his in surprise. "You spilled the tea on that material; you were unable to make it to that demonstration—though we both know that Cassi was insane to expect that of anybody so last minute. You also know what we agreed on, Kurt, and that's if you are having trouble—_any_ trouble, self-perpetuated or not—you're to come to me for help."

Kurt looked abashed. "I'm sorry," he said.

Blaine raised an eyebrow at him. "You're sorry…"

"I'm sorry, Sir," Kurt amended, his cheeks flushing prettily.

"You need to remember something, Kurt," Blaine started, pulling Kurt's hands apart where they were tangled and threading his fingers with Blaine's own instead. "You're not in charge here. You don't get to decide what you deserve or when to be honest. If you think you can't handle something, or that I might be able to help you in any way, you are to come to me and let me know that."

Kurt nodded, his eyes growing misty, and squeezed Blaine's hand.

"I'm very disappointed that you lied to me, especially about needing help. Had you been honest, the burn on your arm might not have happened. You belong to me; you're _my _responsibility. I can't stand it when you're hurt. You're so precious to me, Kurt," his voice broke with these words, losing the calm, dominant tone he so carefully strove to maintain, but he pushed ahead anyway. "It makes me feel like a failure when things like this happen."

Kurt gasped and pulled him close. "You're not, Blaine. Never."

Blaine gratefully returned the embrace for a moment, loving the way his head fit perfectly into the curve of Kurt's neck, as it always had. He inhaled deeply before moving away, bracing himself for what he had to ask next.

But Kurt spoke first.

"Am I really that… precious, to you?" he asked softly, hand gentle on Blaine's face and eyes so innocent and unbelieving that Blaine laughed.

"Of course you are. How can you even ask that, Kurt? You're everything. My precious one."

"Precious One," Kurt echoed, then blushed faintly and looked away. "I think I like that."

"It suits you," Blaine said seriously. "Perhaps I'll keep it."

Kurt smiled, and Blaine reluctantly pressed on.

"About the lying. I was wondering how you'd feel about me… that is, I think I should…"

"Punish me?" Kurt interrupted, all traces of shyness abruptly gone. "You can say it, Blaine; it's okay."

Blaine fidgeted nervously. "It's just really new. I don't want to push, or make you think that I want to hurt you… I could _never _want to hurt you, I…"

This time he was stopped by Kurt's finger against his lips, his expression amused. "You're ranting," he stated bluntly. "And I know that, silly. I know it's not about that, I know _you_, or I'd never let you… but I think it's better if you do."

"You do," Blaine echoed, staring blankly at Kurt's face.

His fiancé nodded. "Consistency, you know. And… it does help."

"I do love helping you," Blaine agreed. "If you're sure…"

When Kurt nodded again, Blaine brightened, leaning in to kiss him and purposely fingering the band around his wrist. "Well then, my dear," he said between pecks. "I suppose I have some thinking and planning to do. You can go clean this up," he gestured towards the tray, "and then wait for me in the living room. On your knees."

Kurt smiled his agreement, hurrying to grab the tray and leave the room as directed, but he paused at the door. "Blaine?" he said, turning back to face him.

"Yes?"

"Don't allow your phone to die like that again, or it will be me who's punishing you."

The final phrase was delivered with an all-too-familiar bite, and Blaine chuckled weakly, his half-hearted grin tapering off into a regretful frown when the words fully hit. "Of course. I'm so sorry, Kurt. It's my responsibility to be there for you, and I fai—"

"Don't say it!" Kurt cut in sharply.

"That shouldn't have happened," Blaine amended easily, "and I want you to know that barring truly extenuating circumstances, it won't again."

"You did promise once to always answer your phone when I called…"

"I know, Kurt. I really am sorry." His eyes implored the submissive to believe him. There was no way Blaine could go into a punishment scene knowing how badly he had messed up himself.

Kurt padded softly over to the bed—Blaine's eyes following the graceful movement of his body helplessly in spite of current circumstances—and once again deposited the tray onto the nightstand. Turning to Blaine, he kissed him soundly, deeply, the exhale of his breath hot and heavy against Blaine's face when he pulled away. "I forgive you, Blaine," Kurt whispered, and the words sank like a healing balm into Blaine's soul.

"Thank you," he replied softly, equally earnest.

Kurt's smile was gentler, more subdued as he slipped out of the room.

When he was gone Blaine sighed and slumped over, already exhausted but knowing he had to come up with something appropriate for the task ahead. The prospect made him both anxious and, if he was honest (and maybe he wasn't ready to be)… a little excited as well. Sometimes being a dominate was hard work.

His mind scanned through the events of the day—his own lack of foresight, Kurt's misfortunes at work and his ensuing panic, how he'd calmed and then come apart so flawlessly at Blaine's touch, the bizarre mix of sass and innocence, confidence and need he somehow maintained.

Blaine smiled to himself, warmth and love and awe settling deep within him, bringing with them the surety he sought.

It was always worth it.


End file.
